Meet the FBI
by LostinOblivion
Summary: Matt and Emily are forced to give a presentation on their jobs to a class of high school students. It doesn't go so well...


_I started writing this a while ago, after I spent the summer teaching high schoolers, and two years riding the subway with inner city teenagers, who I assure you, do talk like this. I just finished it tonight, as a brief detour from Next Month, which I'm having a writer's block issue on again, but it should be up tomorrow. Thanks for reading, and please review!_

* * *

"I cannot believe Cheryl is making us do this! Seriously, have we done anything recently to piss her off?" Matt whined, as he parked in a visitor spot at Los Angeles High West.

"I don't think so, in fact I remember her saying we did very well a few days ago," Emily mumbled, shifting through papers.

"Then why, why would she make us talk to a bunch of high school brats?"

"Because we're the best, and she wants to encourage them to do something positive with their lives." She had listened to him whine for two days, and was basically repeating the same lines to his same questions. She finally gathered all her belongings, and steeled herself for an unwelcome return to high school.

"You're doing most of the talking, right?" He asked, holding her door open, as she climbed out, tucking a last paper into her bag.

"Yes, Matt I said I would. Remind me why I agreed again?"

"Because you're the smart one and the teacher, and you have better people skills." He moved close, and one hand around her middle, going dangerously close to her waistband, he whispered in her ear, "and because I'll make it worth your while tonight."

She grinned, "now that's what I was hoping to hear." Then she shrugged him away from her, "sorry, we have to at least appear professional."

Matt growled, "I already hate this."

* * *

"Quiet, quiet now," a fifty something teacher coaxed her auditorium full of students. They seemed intent on ignoring her though, so she tried a more blunt approach "LA High West, shut your mouths!"

They finally quieted down, so she began the morning's assembly. They had been bringing in speakers from a variety of careers every Friday morning since the start of school, hoping to encourage their students to try for more than a career flipping burgers, or worse, pushing drugs.

"Today's guests are Special Agent's Emily Lehman and Matt Flannery. They work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation as Crisis Negotiators, and are two of the FBI's best in that field. So let's give them a warm welcome to thank them for taking time out of their busy schedules to come and speak to us." She clapped, and was joined by a round of rather sad, unimpressed clapping.

Matt gestured Emily to the microphone with his eyes, she was much less likely to share their lack of enthusiasm than he was.

"Hello, okay, I guess I'll just jump right in and tell what exactly it is we do. Whenever some sort of crisis arises in Los Angeles and often the surrounding area, and sometimes states, we diffuse it. It could be anything from a high-risk suicide, to a man that's just taken his girlfriend and her niece and nephew hostage, to a bank robbery gone bad, to a kidnapping and ransom demand. We get the call from the local PD, and meet them at the scene, which can be just about anywhere. If it's a suicide, we talk them out of killing themselves. If it's a hostage situation we talk the HT, uh sorry hostage taker into dropping his weapon and releasing his hostages. And, when it's a kidnapping, we work with the family to negotiate a ransom with the kidnappers, and when possible, get the victim back without a ransom. So, we'll give you some real life examples of situations we have…" Emily spent the next hour and a half going over some of their experiences, and forcing Matt to open his mouth a few times. Finally, they took questions, together; this was the part Matt was good at, even if he might get a bit sarcastic.

"Yes, in the red shirt?" Emily pointed to a young man in the crowd.

"Yeah, the name's Gabe, so you, like eva lost a hostage?"

"Yes, we both have. Not every scene ends perfectly, or happily. It's not the movies, sometimes you just don't get to win." This isn't so bad, she told herself, as another hand went up.

"The young man with the…uh, 'blood and bullets' t-shirt?" Oh god, she could not understand kids today.

"Yeah, so you two are like Sam Jackson in that movie, right?" The kid looked about 16, but had his sunglasses on and his hood pulled up, so she could barely see his face.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about?" Now she was confused, she was trying to think of a movie with hostage negotiators and couldn't.

"He means _The Negotiator_, good film," Matt told her, before turning to the kid. "Yeah, that's pretty much what we do, though our hostage takers aren't usually our coworkers."

"Wait that movie where Samuel Jackson is framed or something, and Kevin Spacey is another negotiator, that one?" Emily suddenly remembered the film.

"Yeah, that's the one. Came out a few years ago." They were now clearly having their own conversation.

"That was terrible, they got it all wrong, you just don't go about it that way…" She would have continued, but Matt held up a time out signal, he knew she could detail everything they did wrong, but figured their audience wouldn't want to hear it.

"Next question?" He looked out at the students. "Okay, girl with the purple shirt, popping her gum. Can you not do that, it's obnoxious," he instructed the girl, and received a light elbowing from Emily, which he chose to ignore.

"Yeah, I saw y'all like walkin' in before, are y'all like sleepin' togetha?" Oops. Even with all the likes, y'alls, and slurred words, they couldn't misunderstand what she asked.

"That is none of your business." Matt answered before Emily's eyes were even back in her head. "Next Question."

He was on a role. "You, the guy with the uh, Tupac t-shirt."

"Yeah, I'm Bobby, and I was just wonderin' if, as a Special Agent for the FBI, are all your partners that fine? Agent Lehman, you's smokin'."

Emily's mouth was opening and closing, without any sound; she was at a complete loss.

Matt wasn't sure if he should laugh, or grab the little punk, throw him up against a wall, and twist his testicles until he learns the proper way to talk to a woman. Instead, he cleared his throat, and answered the kid's question. "No, about seventy percent of the Bureau is men, another fifteen percent are women in secretarial or administrative positions, another ten percent look like men, so that leaves about five percent of whom are remotely good-looking and could possibly be your partner. Any other questions?"

Emily stared at him, her mouth slightly ajar, her eyes expressing the same bewilderment they had the day he spilled their secret.

"Yes, Bobby, you have another question?" He looked to the same kid with the Tupac t-shirt.

"Yeah, do ya always get ta screw ya partna?" He shot a grin at Emily, who was pretty sure couldn't be any more mortified than she was at that moment.

"No Bobby, the FBI usually frowns at that sort of thing, and most of the women in the Bureau are way to smart for you."

"Yeah, how do you know that?" He challenged Matt, crossing his arms in his best 'gangsta' pose.

"Because the one you're ogling now is too smart for me, and I'm pretty sure I have a few functioning brain cells on you. Now, are there any legitimate questions?" Matt was growing impatient and territorial; he didn't like these kids mentally undressing his girlfriend.

"Uh yeah, the girl with the…oh! Wow then, uh congratulations on the baby…and your question is?" He stumbled on his words, surprised to find that the girl was quite visibly pregnant.

"I'm Krystal, and I wanna know, do you guys get ta like shoot people, and ya know, blow shit up?"

"Well, uh Krystal, we try to avoid that, and as Agent Lehman said we leave that up to HRT." He searched for another hand, hoping exercise in futility would end very soon. "Yes, boy in the back with the backwards baseball cap?"

"Either a you eva shot a dude?"

"Yes, both of us. It's not fun." Matt turned to the side of the stage, where Emily was already looking agonizingly at the teacher who'd introduced them. She finally seemed to catch the hint, and ambled toward them to take over the mike.

"That's all we have time for with our guests, let's give them a nice warm thank you." Again, a very sad round of applause sounded. Students started getting up, most scattering, a few girls hanging back and walking over to Matt.

"What can I do for you girls?" Matt asked, awkwardly as him found himself surrounded by five teenagers.

"We were just wonderin if you're one of the perks a joinin the FBI?" One girl asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Uh no, I'm not." He shrugged away from them as best he could, seeking refuge by Emily.

"Please tell me we can go now?" He pled with her.

"Do I look like I want to hang around here?" She was clearly not happy.

"Oh, before you leave, I'd thank you for coming, but I'm going to have a few complaints to share with your boss."

"Yeah, so are we," Matt told her angrily, while Emily elbowed him.

"Sleeping together, telling our young men that they aren't smart enough…I'm just very disappointed, I expected more professional encouraging behavior from two of the FBI's best and brightest." Mrs. Angela Palmera, scolded them.

Emily glared at her, but Matt answered, "nothing in this world, or anything other can convince those hoodlums that there is anything to our jobs than sex and bullets. _I'm just very disappointed_," he said mocking her, "that your students are supposed to be the future of our society."

She looked offended at first, and then turned to Emily, "you ever consider putting a muzzle on him?"

Emily smiled sweetly, "oh that's only for the bedroom, along with the handcuffs. Nice to meet you." She marched off, with Matt behind her, trying to contain his laughter.

That experience was something they were damned sure never going to repeat again.

* * *

"Flannery! Lehman! In my office, now!" Cheryl barked as they walked into the CNU, smiles falling from their faces, playful attitudes turning serious. It seemed Mrs. Palmera had already put in her complaints.

"Okay, Cheryl before you start, can we just explain?" Emily tried to smooth things over before they got rough.

"Give it your best shot." She sat at her desk, giving them a very similar look to the one she had the day Matt blurted their secret.

"Those kids were impossible, nothing is ever going to get through to them. All they wanted to know about our jobs is if we killed people regularly, and the odds of sleeping with your partner. Oh, and if we get to 'blow shit up." She gestured with air quotes, clearly as unhappy with the day as Cheryl.

"Yeah, there isn't much we could do to help those kids, and half of the little bastards were undressing her with their eyes!" Those young men's faces, alight with desire as they watched his girlfriend made Matt very upset.

"Well, Matt that wouldn't be an issue if you weren't sleeping with her."

"For Christsake Cheryl, they're sixteen, seventeen, and they want to play Mrs. Robinson with her, that doesn't piss you off?"

Cheryl went to speak, but Emily cut her off. "Hello, still in the room. And Matt, that gaggle of girls had the same intention with you."

"Well, that's different."

"Oh, how's that?"

"They weren't a bunch of horny little bastards trying to get in my pants! Girls aren't like guys." Their back and forth was beginning to get loud, and Cheryl had been forgotten in the midst of it.

"Oh come on! Matt, one of those girls rubbing up against you was pregnant! And, I was a teenage girl once, by the way, and I can tell you they are just as horny, and were picturing you naked."

Matt's jaw dropped, "they were not!"

"Oh yes-" Emily began, only to be cut off by a Cheryl on the verge of a migraine.

She threw up her hands at them, "Enough!"

They both instantly got quiet, and docile, like scolded children.

"I get it, the kids were horny little monsters, but that doesn't explain what else Mrs. Palerma told me. She suggested I have a talk with you both, or get you into counseling, because, and I quote, 'they seem to be involved in mutually destructive behavior that could cause they bodily harm.' Would one of you like to explain that?" That comment from the woman had startled her considerably, though she couldn't imagine that it was actually true.

"Oh that, um, she thinks we practice S&M," Matt clarified, clearing his throat awkwardly, and staring at the floor.

Cheryl opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to pick words, and closed her eyes a moment thinking, before she actually managed a sentence. "Okay, so first, it isn't my business what you do outside this office…" They both went to interrupt her, but she held up a hand.

"Really, not my business, and I don't make judgments on my friend's sex lives…" Again she held up a hand to cut off their objections. "That being said, why the hell would she know that or think that, or whatever?"

"That's actually my fault," Emily confessed to Cheryl's surprise.

"Oh, please explain."

"Well, she made a disapproving comment to us about the seminar, so Matt made a equally disapproving comment, that was a bit strong. So, Mrs. Palmera suggested I might consider putting, um, putting a muzzle on him."

Cheryl brought a hand to her mouth, covering the laughter that was threatening to bubble up at Emily's awkward explanation.

"So, I made a rather snide comment back."

"Which was?"

Emily swallowed, and answered very quickly. "That the muzzle was only for the bedroom."

"Along with the handcuffs," Matt added.

Cheryl bowed her head toward her desk, so the two negotiators only saw the top of it, as it starting bouncing up and down to the same rhythm as her shoulders.

Matt and Emily looked at each other, and then back at their boss. Matt addressed her. "Uh, Cheryl, are you okay?"

She abruptly brought her head up, which was slightly pinkish with her laughter. "Thank your hormones for me."

"Uh sorry?" Emily asked confused.

"If you two could actually keep out of each other's pants, this school thing still would have been a disaster, but it wouldn't have been nearly as entertaining." She started cracking up again, as she watched them shift awkwardly in their chairs.


End file.
